


Her...It -- Supernatural

by phantisma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-03
Updated: 2006-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Library, Ghost, Sex...any questions?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her...It -- Supernatural

“Sammy?” Dean came around the stacks in the University Library, holding the shotgun ready. It was quiet and dark and perfect for the anticipated sighting of the ghost…or other bad that was haunting the place.

The reports went back months. Students, and even a professor claimed that they had been molested by an unseen specter. Sam had strung together the story and convinced Dean it was something they should look into. The night had been quiet, but if Sam’s trend analysis was right, tonight was the night.

A cold air swept past Dean and he turned, looking around for a sign of the ghost or demon or monster, but there was nothing. “Sam?” he whispered. There was the sound of a giggle, a very feminine giggle, and he moved toward it. A soft light drew his attention toward the study alcove in the biographies and he stepped through the open space between sections, looking around the room before he stepped into the shadows of the stacks, following the light.

“Okay, I’m here. Now what?” he said to the air.

There was a touch, across his back. It was almost gentle. “That’s not so bad.” Dean shrugged and lowered the gun. The next touch was nearly as soft, over the curve of his ass. It made him jump forward. “Hey now.” He turned, hoping to see who was doing the touching, but there was no visual evidence.

A hand. Very definitely a hand. On his thigh, sliding over the denim of his jeans and between his legs. He jumped again, stumbling backwards and landing on the couch, sprawled awkwardly askew, the shotgun skittering away across the floor. There was more giggling, and before he could move, there were more hands, on his thighs, on his chest. “How many of you are there?” he squeaked, squirming.

His cock was getting hard and he shook his head, trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing. “Damn! Sam!” he yelled and for a second the hands left him. He groaned and tried to pry himself off the couch, only to find he couldn’t move. He opened his mouth to yell for his brother again, and another mouth captured his. He couldn’t help but kiss back as soft lips he couldn’t see pulled at his, and a tongue slid over his lips and into his mouth.

The hands were back. Two of them, on his chest, sliding under his t-shirt to rub at nipples already hard. “Oh…this is…” A finger on his lips silenced him. He wasn’t sure when she…it…had gotten his fly open, but suddenly silky hands were sliding over his cock. His eyes fluttered closed.

Ghostly, invisible fingers cradled his balls and that mouth…it felt like a mouth, closed over the head, sucking lightly until he groaned. “Sam…” Dean wanted to yell, to call it out, but ended up doing little more than whispering the name. He found his ability to move had returned as he involuntarily thrust upward.

The giggle was soft and slightly husky this time, as hands pressed his hips back to the couch. For a moment he felt nothing and was relieved…and at the same time he wanted more. He started when he felt it again, the vague swish of cloth against his arm, then a hand on his cock, guiding it, then weight as she…it…settled, his cock sinking into a cool, wetness. He could see his cock standing straight up and feel the flesh that surrounded it, but there was no one there. He somehow knew that if he reached for it, he would touch only his cock and nothing else. “Okay, that’s weird,” he murmured as she…it…began moving, sliding up and down him. “Guh,” he moaned as she…it…squeezed him inside of her, hands back to his chest, lips capturing his and sucking gently.

“Dean?”

“Not now, Sammy.” Dean whispered and pushed back against the weight of her down stroke. He wasn’t going to last a lot longer. Her…its… kiss deepened, tongue nearly down his throat as he panted and tried in vain to hold her…it He heard a sound that seemed like a muffled moan and felt his balls fondled, and it was enough. He groaned and arched upward as he came, watching as it spurted into the air. The sight was disconcerting and yet the feeling of her milking it for more was overwhelming. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ride it out, his cock twitching until his balls were empty.

“Dean?” He could see Sam now, coming from the stairs. He could see Dean too, his concern giving way to annoyance. “I’ve been calling you.”

Dean nodded, trying to make his body work to cover himself. The weight lifted and Dean sat up, tucking himself back into his jeans and trying to wipe the cum off of his thigh. The giggle sounded again, this time moving toward Sam. Dean shook his head.

Sam turned as if expecting to see someone and Dean grinned. More than anyone, Sam needed the release, and Dean knew it. He picked up the shotgun and headed away from the couch. “I’m hitting the can. Have fun.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows as he passed his brother, then jumped at the hands pinching his ass. They could always kill the damn thing after Sam had a little fun with her…it.


End file.
